“Comes in handy. Grief is basically our family business.”
“Explains a lot.”
She started to ask what he meant when the door opened.
“Omigod, Alice?” Kimberly cried. She dropped a folder she was carrying, yanked Alice inside by her arm and slammed the door in Carter’s face.
“Kimberly, what are you doing?” Alice said, rubbing her arm. For a dying woman, she had a good grip.
“Saving you!”
“From what?”
“From him! I’m calling the cops.”
“The hell? Give me that phone.” Alice stopped the call, opened the door and hissed at Carter to get inside. No neighbors were visible, so hopefully they hadn’t been seen.
Kimberly stared at Carter like she was meeting a celebrity. “But on the news, they said?—”
Alice nearly dropped the phone. “On thenews?”
“They said a teacher had been kidnapped, and he was a ‘person of interest,’” Kimberly said, retrieving the phone, her gaze glued to Carter. “They said he could be armed and dangerous. I’ve been trying to call you.”
“On the news?” Alice repeated.
Carter scratched his hair, which had been messed up by the helmet. “Armed, no.”
“I wasn’t kidnapped—well, not exactly.”
“Notexactly? His photo is everywhere. I’ve been getting calls. Must say though, you lookmuchbetter in person.” There was a note of awe in Kimberly’s voice. “I mean, much less sketchy. That photo they’re using—they haven’t named you,” Kimberly said, turning back to Alice, “but word has very quickly gotten around town. You were taken right from your classroom, and no one saw! I’ve been getting calls from everyone we know, thinking you’ve been captured by some maniac. Malik has gone out searching for you. Did you know your phone’s switched off?”
“I … lost it. Listen, I can’t explain now, but I’m not in any danger—well, not from Carter. At least, I don’t think I am.”
“Not at all,” Carter confirmed.
“But I need my dictaphone, the one I gave you.”
“Uh, sure, okay.” Kimberly didn’t move.
“Kimberly?”
“Just trying to think where I put it. Alice, how about you help me search the office? He can search … the living room, if he wants.” Alice rolled her eyes. A transparent attempt to get her alone.
“Don’t worry,” Alice said to Carter, “I’ll make sure she doesn’t call 911.”
Wait—when had Alice changed her mind about that?
“It’s just through there. Knock yourself out,” Kimberly said to Carter, pointing down the hall. Once he was gone, she tugged off her Marilyn Monroe wig to scratch her wispy head. “Sorry, this is driving me nuts.”
“You’re wearing a wig at home now?”
“This way I look in the mirror and go, ‘Check me out!’ Not, ‘Holy shit, I look like a cadaver already.’ Now, where would I have put it?”
Kimberly’s study reflected her personality. It was the former main bedroom, split in half by a rice-paper screen. One side was repurposed as a consulting room and could pass for the waiting room of an upscale spa, with comfy armchairs, a vibrant artwork, and a table with a potted plant, not that she was seeing many clients anymore. But behind the screen it was a garage sale of half-packed boxes, kids’ toys for her play therapy sessions, her bike, and her plastic-covered wedding gown, which was hanging from a hook. “The dress needs to be taken in again,” Kimberly said to Alice, as she shoved it aside. “I might as well wait until the last minute so we know how much padding to put in the boobs.” Kimberly pointed to a box marked with Alice’s name. “Stationery, for you, by the way. The pretty stuff—journals, nice pens, notecards. I won’t be needing it where I’m going. Plus, you may as well have the shoes back that you gave me—my balance is shot. I struggle to wear even one-inch heels anymore. And my feet are too swollen. Maybe you can pass them on to someone else if they’re too small for you.”
“Would you stop giving me your things? Except the dictaphone.”
“We both know what a pain it is to have to sift through a lifetime’s worth of home appliance receipts and random photos and chargers for long-dead cell phones. My plan is to leave everything totally organized, so all you need to do is sit on your verandah and drink mimosas in my memory.” She chewed theside of her mouth. “I should order some of those mimosa mixes. Maybe I should organize a cake. Could I leave instructions for the lawyer to do it? Would that be weird?”
